


All Out Of Love

by DynamicDuo (XylB)



Category: Titans (Comics)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Post-Break Up, mentioned Roy/Donna, mentioned Roy/Garth, mentioned Roy/Kyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29970894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo
Summary: Roy doesn't do anything by halves. He falls in love all at once, and then once more completely for good measure, and pours nothing but devotion into whoever's got him heads over heels. It's admirable and heartbreaking all at once, a taste of what Dick wants for himself tempered with the torturous cycle of watching Roy get his heart shattered because he couldn't help falling in love just one more time, with just one more person, in just one more shitty situation that Dick can't help with.It's just how he is. And Dick wouldn't have him any other way, even if it does snag at his own taped-up heart to watch the dissolution, even if it does ache his swallow to bite back all the things he wants to say.(Or: the five times Dick picked up the pieces, and the one time Roy put the pieces together)
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Roy Harper
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	All Out Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> The referenced addiction and sexual assault are both very brief mentions, but please do ask in a comment if you're concerned about any content! 
> 
> Incest shippers do not interact.

**1.**

Titans Tower is hilariously empty on Friday nights, as silent as the grave even at what would otherwise be a reasonably sociable seven p.m., but everyone else has already left for dinner or movies or home. So this time of night, and this _empty_ , there's nothing but the occasional beep of the security systems to keep Dick company. He sort of accidentally forgot to make plans for today, too busy with schoolwork and _other_ work, but it's shaken out in his favour tonight. Just him, his TV, and free roam of the kitchen - which mostly means raiding his snack shelf without judgment. 

It's still early enough in the evening that he could probably tag along to Wally's and Lilith's cinema trip if he wanted, an option he considers for a solid five seconds while staring at movie times on his phone before dismissing it. He reaches up on tiptoes to reach the top of the snack cupboard, rifling through Garth's chips and Donna's obscene amount of peppermint bark to find - _aha!_

The peanut brittle is less in pieces and more in splinters, but still perfectly edible, and finds a comfortable resting spot in the crook of his elbow as he fishes a water bottle out of the fridge. He hums some senseless tune under his breath as he walks down the hallway, juggling his water bottle in one hand - a move Roy would deem _show-offy_. 

Without them all there, it's easier to see just how lived-in the Tower really is, even though it's only been a few months since they started living here. Half-living. All of them split time between here and their respective homes, and weekends are really the only guarantee of any reliable time together, but they make it work. But with no one here, Dick can distinguish discolouration from sun damage, dents from near-misses. Below his socked feet, indented footsteps litter the carpet to mark out their various paths, overlapping and swirling over each other in indistinct patterns. 

Wally's threshold is much more worn down than the rest, and the bottoms of Donna's and Garth's doors have paint scraped from the wall from super-strength kicking-open. It's amusing, really, the stark comparison of Dick's and Roy's and Lilith's clean doors against the evidence of the others' physical powers, something he idly catches and notices on his way by - 

A noise freezes him in his tracks before he even realises he's heard it. The water bottle creaks slightly in his fist as he stills, listening out for a repeat. It was far too quiet to be the Tower settling, he's sure, but the security system beeps reassuringly a second later. 

With a shrug, he takes a step forward, and immediately halts at the _sound_ again. This time he definitely heard it, and it was definitely _human_ , and it was definitely some sort of breathing. 

And it came from Roy's room. Dick sets his foot down silently and glances at Roy's door, just a couple feet to his right. There's no light shining out from under the door, and no movement inside, but that doesn't mean - 

He hears it again. Roy's room, without a doubt, except Roy's out on a date, and no one else should be _in_ there, and Dick doesn't remember hearing anyone come in. Although it's easily missed over the sound of his TV, he supposes. 

Dick swallows and carefully steps over to the door to knock lightly on it. 

"Roy? Are you okay?" 

Something shuffles inside with another of those breaths, but otherwise Roy doesn't answer. Dick hesitates before touching the handle. 

It's unlocked. He drops his footsteps louder, as if Roy can't already hear him turning the handle, and cautiously opens the door. The light from the hallway floods in to fill out its standard rectangle, leaving the rest of Roy's room in shadow, but there's enough reflected light for Dick to pinpoint him sitting on the floor beside his bed, knees drawn up to his chest and his forehead pressed to his forearms. 

"Roy?" It feels odd to just...step _in_ , but Roy doesn't ask him to leave, or any other indication that he wants Dick gone. 

When he draws closer, Dick can see the minute tremble of Roy's shoulders, but he doesn't realise he's crying until Roy sniffs and wipes a hand over his face. It's a jarring contrast to how Roy usually is, talkative and loud and just...a lot of _everything_ , but Dick's never known him to cry aside from physical injuries, and those are just freebies. You get a rib cracked, you deserve to shed a few tears over it. 

Roy doesn't have any injuries that Dick knows of, and surely if he got hurt tonight Dick would have been the one patching him up. So for him to be sitting here alone, in the dark, _clearly_ upset, well, Dick's stomach twists with worry as he slowly sits down beside him. 

He knows better than to start asking questions. Instead, he lays a quiet hand on Roy's trembling shoulder, content, for now, to just exist with him. Roy's not full-on crying, he thinks, although he can't quite tell where Roy's buried his face in his arms, but it's bordering somewhere between sniffly and weepy, like he's trying not to go further. Dick sets his water down in front of them and leans back against the side of Roy's bed, counting out the minutes in even breaths and gentle squeezes of Roy's shoulder as he gradually stills. 

A few of those minutes later, Roy unfolds enough to tip his head back against the edge of the mattress, dragging a hand down his face and sniffling loudly. Dick politely doesn't look. 

"What happened?" He asks, staring at a point on Roy's knees. 

"Kelsey dumped me," Roy mumbles. A frown tugs at Dick's mouth without his permission. He hasn't... _dated_ anyone yet, but man, that's gotta suck. Roy really liked her, too. 

"Sorry," he offers. "That sucks." 

"Yeah." Roy swipes at his eyes and leans against Dick, just slightly. "It's fine. I'll get over it. Just - y'know, she's my first girlfriend." A pause. "Was my first girlfriend." 

"Did she say why?" 

Roy shakes his head. "All she said is she wasn't interested anymore." 

Dick bites his tongue against his other questions. It's practically second nature, being raised by Batman, as socially awkward as it can be sometimes - too nosy, too curious, too _invasive_. But Roy won't want to talk about it, probably, although Dick's seen it in movies, so maybe? He's not sure entirely what the protocol is, and he thinks Roy doesn't know either, but sitting in a dark room alone probably isn't it. Right? Or is Roy supposed to talk about it? 

Or, Dick thinks dryly, he could just _ask_ him. Another one of Bruce's habits, second-guessing yourself. 

"Do you want to...talk about it?" 

"No. Yes. I don't know." Roy shrugs. "I just kinda wanna forget about it. I don't know." 

Dick nudges the water bottle towards Roy. 

"Do you wanna play Portal?" He asks. "Garth got it for my birthday, and I haven't had a chance to - " He's rambling. He shuts his mouth and sighs out through his nose. 

"Yeah, okay," Roy agrees. Sniffles again, and rubs the heel of his hand over his nose. "Beats sitting around in here." 

"You want anything to eat?" Dick pulls out the bag of peanut brittle. "It's kinda broken, but I've got peanut brittle." 

Roy considers the offer for a short moment before nodding. "Sure." 

Dick crosses his legs to push himself up and offers a hand to Roy. 

"I'm gonna beat your ass at Portal," Roy says with a shaky smile, wiping his hands on his jeans and standing up with Dick's help. He's still dressed in his date clothes, nice shirt and all. It doesn't quite fit in the shoulders, but nothing much fits Roy nowadays. He's outgrown most of his wardrobe, and remains reluctant to update it. 

"It's not - we're s'pposed to work together in it," Dick replies, although he can't fight the smile tugging on his lips. "You can't _beat_ me." 

"Sounds like a challenge," Roy says, but his toothy grin is a happy turnaround from the redness of his eyes, and Dick already finds himself looking forward to being the cause of more of that. 

\-- 

**2.**

Dick's phone buzzes loudly on the coffee table. He scoops it up with his free hand and wipes popcorn dust off his jeans to answer, holding it up to his ear with a _Hello?_

"Hey, Dick," Roy greets, but he sounds strangely flat. 

"Roy. What's up?" 

"Can I come over?" 

"My door's always open, you know that." 

"Yeah, I know, I just..." 

Dick frowns at his paused movie. "Roy?" 

"Garth and I broke up." 

Oh. 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. I just - kinda want some company?" The twang of uncertainty in his voice wrenches Dick's heart, as if after all they've been through, Dick would ever turn him away. 

"You need me to pick you up?" 

"No, I'm, uh, already at the zeta. You're in Blüd, right?" 

Roy arrives twenty minutes later, hovering somewhere between ghostly and awkward. Dick pats him on the shoulder and pulls him into a hug the moment the door closes. Roy chuckles against his shoulder, winding his arms around Dick's middle to squeeze him right back. 

"Dick, I'm fine," he says, and Dick hums noncommittally. 

"You wanna talk about it?" He asks when he pulls away, leading Roy to the sofa. 

"Not much to talk about," Roy says, unzipping his hoodie with a sigh. "It was - mutual. Just better as friends." He's more withdrawn tonight, sullen lines drawing down the corners of his mouth and eyes as Dick perches beside him on the sofa, the popcorn bowl long forgotten. 

Dick gently nudges Roy's ankle with his own. "It's okay if you're upset about it." 

"I'm not." Roy slumps further in the cushions. "Not really. I just miss it, y'know? And I'm gonna see him every day, and I...dunno." 

Dick does know. He's had his fair share of dating in the team - first Barbara, when they were younger, and then Wally before that dissolved so Wally could focus on Flash stuff - and it's always the same brand of not-quite-awkward for a few weeks afterwards. He's still close friends with both of them, but it's been months since he and Wally were over, and even now he can recognise the faint ache that comes with missing him. 

"I'll be fine," Roy murmurs, staring glumly at the floor. Dick scoots over to press them together, delicately placing the TV remote on Roy's leg. 

"Well, if you want to ruin one of my shirts, I won't say anything," Dick replies, which earns him a humourless chuckle. 

" _And_ I've got ice cream," he adds, ducking down to see a smile edge onto Roy's face. 

"What flavour?" 

"Mint chocolate chip." 

Roy pulls a face. A smile tugs at Dick's lips. 

"And peanut butter," he continues. "It's got your name on it." 

"What, is it part of Roy's break-up kit?" Roy smiles at him, despite the dampness in the corners of his eyes. "Video games and peanut butter desserts?" 

"It's just part of my Roy kit," Dick answers. It's the truth, as sappy as it sounds, but he likes to keep all his friends' favourite things on hand, just in case they visit. And Roy visits often enough to warrant Dick keeping a few extra things around, like the bottle of chocolate syrup and the Sprite. 

Roy wordlessly scoots up next to Dick when he returns with ice cream and condiments, kicking off his shoes to curl up while Dick stretches out on the coffee table. Roy doesn't speak much, just hums in acknowledgement whenever Dick does, but that's perfectly fine. They don't need much to communicate. Never have, with the inherent bond that comes with working on the Titans together, with the friendship that grew alongside it. With the something-more Dick keeps buried deep inside the hollow of his chest. 

Dick knows it's selfish, but his heart squeezes in his chest at the way Roy's head drops onto his shoulder halfway through a Portal replay, at the way their wrists bump and fight for space in his lap, knocking their controllers together and messing up his progress. 

He knows, and yet he indulges, and hopes Roy doesn't notice. 

\-- 

**3.**

He's already staying over at Roy's when it happens this time. He resolved to start travelling more in the last year, which means a lot of crashing on other Titan's couches and cross-country trips to visit them. It's a refreshing change of pace from holing up in Blüd or the Tower, and he'd never been to California for a significant period of time before. 

But sleeping on the couch means the bang of the front door startles him awake, automatically clutching the blanket up to his chest as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. 

"Sorry," Roy mumbles, and locks the door behind him. He's all shadow, shoulders hunched up and jacket bunched around him, but there's something oddly thick in his voice, wavering between anger and something Dick can't pinpoint. 

"Roy?" He tries not to slur it, but his tongue and teeth haven't quite caught up with the _being awake_ part of the moment. "Roy, wha'sup?" 

"Go back to sleep, Dick," Roy says on his way by the sofa. Dick snatches his wrist over the back of it. 

"You're upset." 

"I'm _fine_." 

"Where were you?" 

Roy shakes his hand off. "Nowhere. Buzz off." Irritation pinches his voice tight, but Dick can hear the miserable note underneath it. 

"Roy, let me help." Dick asks it as softly as he can, pushing himself up to sitting. Roy sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. 

"I was at Kyle's," he says. His voice wavers. Dick sits up straighter. 

"Did he hurt you? Because Roy, you know I won't hesitate to deck a GL - " 

"He didn't - it was me," Roy replies, although there's a huffed chuckle tossed in there somewhere. "It was both of us. It was - whatever. We got in a fight, and I can't - I _couldn't_ \- " he runs both hands through his hair with a frustrated grunt. "I can't handle the long distance thing, and I just - " 

"You broke up." 

"I fucking hate space." Roy's voice snags and tears, and he sinks to sit on the floor by the back of the sofa. Dick climbs over the back to join him, dragging his blanket with him to pool at their feet. He hates seeing Roy like this, he _hates_ it, he hates seeing Roy get hurt over and over again. 

Roy doesn't do anything by halves. He falls in love all at once, and then once more completely for good measure, and pours nothing but devotion into whoever's got him heads over heels. It's admirable and heartbreaking all at once, a taste of what Dick wants for himself tempered with the torturous cycle of watching Roy get his heart shattered because he couldn't help falling in love just one more time, with just one more person, in just one more shitty situation that Dick can't _help_ with. 

It's just how he is. And Dick wouldn't have him any other way, even if it does snag at his own taped-up heart to watch the dissolution, even if it does ache his swallow to bite back all the things he wants to say. 

"It _sucks_ ," Roy continues, and now his voice is ragged, like he's about to start sniffling. "It really fucking _sucks_ , Dick." 

Dick wordlessly wraps his arm around Roy's shoulders, curves his other hand over his leg, wishes not for the first time that he could somehow protect Roy from all this. 

"I didn't _mean_ it," Roy says, but his voice cracks badly in the middle, and it's all Dick can do to swallow his sympathetic noise when Roy presses his face to his shoulder. A sniffle slips out next, and a couple valiant attempts to fight it back later, Roy's crying on his shirt, muttering something about arguments and regrets. 

Dick's not too concerned with Kyle right now. He'll text him tomorrow, as his friend, but right now he's occupied with Roy shaking quietly in his arms, fingers clutching at his shirt like he's begging him not to leave, too. Dick murmurs soft reassurances into his hair - senseless, meaningless nothings - and curls his fingers around Roy's palm to hold his hand. Roy grasps on him like a lifeline, even tries to _apologise_ through stuttered breaths, curls his knees up like he wants to hide away from the world. 

"Don't apologise," Dick mumbles, squeezes him tighter against his side. 

"I loved him," Roy whispers brokenly. "I only told him - " he doesn't finish the sentence. Dick understands. 

He's still nursing a halfway healed heart from Kori - it was just too much, too fast, and neither of them truly had the time, but. Dick loved her. She even said it _back_ , when he'd murmured it hesitant under mistletoe, her hair a slow burn against his fingertips, and he _loved_ her so much. 

So much, and he knew it wasn't fair when he was still hung up on Roy. 

Either way, it's over now, and - and he had gone to Wally to commiserate over it, not Roy, because he doesn't trust himself not to blab out all the things he can't say. Wants to say it now, wants traitorous words to trip over his traitorous tongue and spill against Roy's temple. 

Roy sniffles loudly against his damp T-shirt, his fingers sweaty against Dick's. He'll bounce back. Always does, no matter how many times he shatters. Dick knows him too well to think that this messy break-up with Kyle will impact their longterm friendship - Roy doesn't hold grudges easily. He'll go back in a couple days to try and resolve it, try and talk it out with all the care that Kyle deserves, all the care that Dick admires. 

He wonders if Roy has ice cream in his freezer. 

\-- 

**4.**

This time, Dick hears it from someone else. It spreads through the Titans like wildfire, even faster with the close quarters of most of them inhabiting the Tower once more. Dick's at his place in Gotham when it happens, his phone lighting up with a brief but comprehensive text from Garth, and then a follow-up from Wally, and then - 

Dick calls Roy first. 

"I'm in Gotham." 

" _Dick_." Roy says his name broken, like Dick's some sort of salvation, like - 

When Roy comes in, he's itching at his arm in that telltale way, and there's still tear streaks down his cheeks, and he looks so suddenly _young_ that it breaks Dick's heart clean through, empathised agony drawing his throat tight as Roy collapses on his sofa and sobs into his chest. It's like they're sixteen all over again, except this time Dick's the only one picking up the pieces. He can't stop the way he envelops Roy in his arms, the tears that he carefully blinks away, the ones that spring up whenever Roy tries to speak and _can't_ , too mangled by his crying to manage anything more than a senseless, garbled attempt. 

He'd thought Donna would be the one for Roy. They all did. Fuck, they were basically already planning their wedding after Roy privately announced his intentions. And they were so _happy_ leading up to it, like there was a personal bubble of affection sweeping them up into each other to forget the rest of the world. Dick hadn't quite known how deep jealousy could run until they'd stumbled past first date into first anniversary and right into first _proposal_. 

He's not feeling jealous now. He's feeling awful about ever feeling jealous in the first place, a sour mix of guilt and self-loathing solidifying in his chest. It already tastes like peanut butter, sense memory rushing to fill in the gaps. 

Roy's shoulders shake in his arms, his entire frame twisting and shifting as he curls his legs up on the sofa - Dick adjusts to lean against the arm, instead, leans out to give Roy a space half on top of him. The weight is crushing on his ribs, which is just as well, because he can already hear how his own breathing is artificially choppy, stuttering on air for sobbing he's not even doing, but the prickle of tears in his eyes reminds him how close he is. 

Dick knows about the prophecy from his texts, but he doesn't mention them. He can understand Donna's instinct to protect Roy, and...and he knows it's probably hurt her just as much. He can't bring himself to feel annoyed towards her, fuck, never could with _Donna_ , can't feel anything aside from the lump in his throat when Roy sniffles into his shirt and whimpers. 

"I was gonna marry her," he manages at some point - Dick's lost track of the time. "I was gonna - I _wanted_ to, and I never - I didn't - " 

Dick strokes a hand through his hair and presses his frown to it, nodding in acknowledgement. Roy's breath hitches and stumbles. When a fresh wave of tears overtakes him, Dick just pulls him into his chest and works his fingers through the knots in Roy's hair. 

Eventually, all that surrounds them is the thick, heavy silence, weighed down with all the conversation they didn't have. Roy breathes raggedly into Dick's chest, half-laying on him on the sofa as it is, but he's cried himself out for now it seems. Dehydration probably stings at the back of his throat. Dick shifts against the arm of the sofa and sweeps his hand slow up and down Roy's back. 

"I was gonna marry her," Roy repeats softly. Brokenly. Shot all the way through. He wiggles a hand around from his pocket to press something into Dick's hand. 

Dick uncurls his fingers to study the ring, a gorgeous swirl of silver entwined up to a quiet sapphire in the middle. Silver tendrils wrap around the edges like vines, like a secret. The size of it seems laughably delicate in Dick's hand, and he knows instantly it would fit Donna perfectly. Roy's just like that. 

"I'm sorry," Dick says. He feels like that's all he says, nowadays, but at least this one isn't his fault. 

"I get it." Roy rubs his nose against Dick's chest and sighs sadly. "She just wants to protect me." Dick recognises the aching note in his voice. 

"You'd do the same," he murmurs. Roy nods. 

"I'd do the same," he agrees softly, and it fixes nothing. 

They sit there in silence for a long while; Dick, staring at the ceiling; Roy, pretending there aren't still tears slipping down his cheeks. He's quiet now, almost contemplative. Drained. Adrift. 

"Anything you want to do?" Dick asks, tests, experiments with his fragile hold on Roy. 

"I don't really want to _exist_ ," Roy whispers. He inhales like his ribs are breaking, pained and shallow and aching. 

"Roy - " 

"I don't mean it like that," Roy interjects. Dick rests his cheek on Roy's head. 

"I'm yours for as long as you need me," he says, and wishes he could say it more, and wishes Roy would _want_ him, and knows it'll never be true, and swallows down his own old, lonely, cracking heart to focus on the man trembling in his arms. 

\-- 

**5.**

Roy bangs into Dick's apartment with a scowl on his face, throwing himself onto the sofa before Dick can ask what's wrong. The civilian clothes and the kempt hair tell him it's not a mission frustration, but the uncharacteristic anger on Roy's face leads him to a conclusion halfway between "completely lost" and "entirely lost". In anger, the sharp angles of Roy's body are even more pronounced, from the jut of his elbows to the set of his jaw. The furrow of his eyebrows is deep, and the frown deeper. 

It's not the first time Roy's come over annoyed - Dick had handed over a spare key some years ago, with a standing invitation, and he's come to enjoy the thrill of a potential unplanned visit. But this time, Roy's not opening his mouth and immediately ranting about stupid League rules or a mission gone sideways, and there's not even the misplaced guilt he sometimes comes over with, dipping his hands in blood that doesn't belong on them. 

Not that Roy only comes over for comfort. Dick sees him more than his own family at this point, and it's only by virtue of Roy's visits that he's managed to complete this many co-op video games in the last year. Usually, it's an excuse to get rid of his leftovers, or an excuse to not cook at all, and usually it's one of the happier nights of Dick's week. 

But Roy's angry now. Furious, even, the sort of rage Dick hasn't seen outside of Atrocitus. 

"You okay?" He asks, gingerly stepping around the sofa to sit down on it, a careful distance from Roy. 

"Tony," Roy spits out through gritted teeth. He messes up his hair with a frustrated grunt, scrubbing out whatever date-night tidiness he instilled in it earlier this evening. 

Tony. Dick doesn't know much about him, admittedly, but he knows he's Roy's latest relationship - or is relationship too strong a word, for someone he's only gone on a handful of dates with? Either way, _Tony's_ a civilian, so Roy has, understandably, kept him at arms' length from the rest of them. It's not his first time dating outside of the superhero pool, but he certainly tries to broaden his horizons more than the rest of them. Dick hasn't tried dating in a couple years, now, after a failed rekindling with Barbara, and a second go-around with Wally that, once again, was overrun by the stress of their vigilante responsibilities. 

"What happened?" Dick can draw his own conclusions, but it always goes better when he gets a straight answer. 

"It's over." Roy uncrosses his arms and holds the left one out with a sneer. 

"He didn't want to date a 'fucking _junkie_ '," he spits, throwing himself against the cushions. There's a familiar downturn to his mouth, edging underneath the anger holding his shoulders tight. 

The words hit Dick like a slap to the face - with his usual social pool, he had forgotten that - or, rather, he'd never quite associated that stupid social taboo with _Roy_. It's easy to forget how civilians would view them, and how they would interpret the scars running up Roy's inner elbow, and how they'd connect dots that were never even true in the first place. 

Whereas Dick - and the rest of the hero community - has always sort of half-forgotten about them in the manner that accompanies familiarity. It had happened, and Roy had been _through_ that, and they had helped him best they could, and that...was just part of their cumulative history. The same way that Bruce's extensive therapy appointments are an example to follow, not a failure. The same way Clark's complicated relationship with xenophobia is just a part of a whole, and never a negative reflection. 

The same way that Dick's own unfortunate experiences are stitched into that tapestry, woven so tight he'd almost forgotten that a civilian looking in might try and tell him it wasn't real, or that didn't _happen_ to men, or - 

"Fuck him," Dick says, scooting over. "He's a civilian." 

"He was _nice_." 

"He was an _asshole_." Dick carefully touches his fingers to Roy's knee. "It's a horrible thing to say." 

Roy slumps down. "It might've been fine if he found out later." 

"Roy - " 

"I could've _explained_ , instead of - " Roy runs a hand over his face and grunts. "My sleeve rolled up. I was so _careful_ \- " 

"Roy, listen to me," Dick says gently. "He would've been an asshole sooner or later." 

"No, it's not - " Roy stands up then, pacing alongside Dick's coffee table. "I really liked him, Dick." 

"I know." Dick doesn't know what else to say. 

"I really liked him, and I fucked it up." 

Dick frowns. It's not on Roy to - Tony's shown his true colours, surely Roy can't really think that's a fair price for a relationship? Surely - 

"Roy, you - this - you sure you shouldn't...take a break from civilians or something?" Because this is the third attempt that Dick's seen implode, that's erupted because of something or other from Roy's past and present and future vigilante career that's turned off his civilian romances. 

"'Take a break'. That's rich, coming from you." It's lashing out. Dick can recognise it, he can mitigate it, and he can, hopefully, defuse it. 

"You don't mean that," he says. 

"No, I do." Roy shoots him a look, lip curled and spiteful, and despite him, Dick feels just the tiniest bit intimidated. Roy's _seriously_ pissed. "Just because you've sworn off dating doesn't mean the rest of us have to." 

"I haven't - _sworn off_ dating, what the fuck?" 

"Sure," Roy scoffs. "Excuse me for forgetting your, what, two dates you had with Wally? That _definitely_ qualifies you to give me advice." 

Dick raises his hands in surrender. "Roy, take a breath. You don't mean this." 

"That's easy for you to say!" Roy whirls around to face Dick, jabbing a finger at him. Dick stands up on gut-instinct alone, putting them at the same height, the same advantage, on the same level of a fight he didn't even know was brewing. "You could have _anyone_ Dick, Jesus, have you fucking seen yourself?" 

The frustration that itches at Dick's bones is unfair, and mean, and completely unjustified. Roy's just lashing out, he doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean any of it. It's just - 

"I don't _want_ just anyone," Dick snaps back coldly, bristling. Tension rolls off Roy in near-palpable waves, thickening the space between them until there's nothing but unfiltered emotion crackling in the air. 

"And I _do_?" Roy spits it with a sneer. "Yeah, and it's just unfair on the rest of us, huh? Christ, Dick, no one wants to date _this_ ," he gestures to himself with a jerky hand. "You don't get it, and you _won't_ fucking get it, because you're happy as you are. Some of us _aren't_." 

"It'd probably help if you didn't keep dating assholes." Dick crosses his arms. "You can't just _hide_ it, Roy, they'll find out eventually." 

"Yeah, no shit, Dick! Maybe next time I'll just hand out a checklist, huh? Here, fucking cross off everything you don't wanna date!" 

"Roy, c'mon, you know that's not what I meant," Dick sighs, frustration bubbling up in his veins. "I just meant maybe give the community a chance - " 

"No, no, I want to hear this." Roy plants his stance and scowls at Dick. "Go on, I want to hear how you think I'm planning to 'hide' my shit." 

"I didn't say - " 

"It sure _sounded_ like it." 

"You've never dated a civ, Dick, so funnily enough, I don't think I'm gonna take your advice for when to share my _personal shit_ with a complete stranger." 

"I'm just saying you keep getting hurt!" Dick doesn't mean to raise his voice, but the volume causes a flicker of... _something_ on Roy's face. "You're better off in the community, not fucking - they won't _get_ it, Roy, they weren't _there_ for it - " 

"Oh, and I can only go out with people I've almost died on?" Roy bites it out like an accusation, like a bone to a dog, and Dick's never fucking claimed to be perfect.

"It might _help_ ," he snarks. 

"What, you _jealous_?" 

"Yeah, I am!" Dick snaps it out before he can realise what he's saying, and Roy's anger drops like a curtain to reveal plain, open surprise on his face. Dread pools cold in Dick's stomach, oh god oh no oh _fuck_ he didn't - he was never - fuck, _fuck_. 

"Dick - " 

"I'm gonna - get some fresh air," Dick mumbles, whipping his jacket off the hook and practically fleeing out the door before Roy can stop him. 

Hands jammed firmly in his pockets, he bites his tongue and hurries down the street, desperate to get _anywhere_ , just get _away_ from the claustrophobia pulling his ribs tight. The squeeze his lungs and heart is too much, too fucking much, reminiscent of mission adrenaline and fear gas and everything all at once and not enough and - 

He turns towards the beach. He just needs to clear his head. Figure his shit out, talk to Roy, explain that he didn't mean it, explain - apologise? Maybe apologise. Definitely apologise. Fuck, Roy came to him to unwind, not to - _Jesus_ , Dick's fucked this up. Self-loathing boils bitter inside him, a familiar feeling now, churning sour in his gut. Should've just kept his mouth shut. Should've - _needs_ to apologise, needs to try and explain, doesn't know _how_ to explain, because how do you explain that you've been watching your best friend break his heart on so many other shores that - 

" - hey!" A hand encircles Dick's arm and stops him short. It's only the voice that stops him from hitting Roy, but he does turn around with a glare. 

"Leave me alone," he says. Fuck, it's coming out all wrong. He doesn't need anger here - but anger's _familiar_ , and it's so easy to sink into when he's on the defensive, and it's - 

He hates himself more with every word that bubbles up. "Just fuck off, Roy." 

"You don't mean that." Roy says it _kindly_ , as if Dick deserves anything other than indignation right now. 

All the bluster rushes out of Dick with a sigh. 

"I don't," he admits. "I don't, but can we just - can we just move on?" 

"Dick." Sadly, this time, with concern shining in Roy's eyes, and Dick wants to curl up in shame. 

" _Please_ , Roy," he pleads. He doesn't think he could handle the rejection right now, as fragile as he feels. 

The conflict on Roy's face is clear as a day, a warring display that has Dick holding his breath, wondering if he could shrivel up out of embarrassment alone. 

"Okay," Roy breathes. "Okay, Dick." He lets go of his arm, and Dick instantly misses the warmth. 

"I'm sorry," he replies, on instinct, on principle. Roy opens his mouth and then shuts it again, averting his eyes to look somewhere to Dick's right. 

"Don't stay out too late, okay?" Roy says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He's not even wearing a jacket, although the brisk wind off the bay must be too chilly for him. "You'll come back?" 

"I'll come back," Dick promises, would promise it whenever Roy asked, whatever he wanted. 

And for the first time in his life, he wonders if falling in love with Roy Harper is the worst mistake he's ever made. 

\-- 

**(+1)**

"Can I come over?" 

Dick can pick out the notes in Roy's voice like guitar strings. By now, they're long familiar, and the melancholy edge means that Dick will be picking up pieces tonight. 

"Always." 

The travel gives him enough time to finish making dinner and serve what would have been leftovers onto a second plate. Ironically, or perhaps in a perfect twist of fate, they're a copy of the Thai peanut noodles from down the street. Roy's not usually hungry for a meal if he's upset, but it's worth the effort, and Dick can probably finish what Roy doesn't anyway. 

Roy's hair is longer. That's the first thing Dick notices, even though it's only been two months since he last saw him. A smile tugs at Roy's lips, but there's a subtle twist to them that has Dick already anticipating. 

"What's up?" 

Roy's smile looks the same. Bright and genuine and squeezing Dick's heart in his ribcage. Miraculously, it doesn't feel awkward when Roy hugs him, like two months ago never happened, like Dick didn't show his hand and fold in one night. He can almost pretend his breath doesn't catch at the splay of Roy's hands over his ribs, strong and familiar and _warm_. 

"Just wanted to talk to you." 

Dick offers the plates on their way to the sofa, with extra cutlery and napkins for the inevitable spills, catches Roy's eye and smiles when he settles into his corner, with Roy sitting up against him, pressed together from thigh to hip. It's electrifying, the negative space between them, thrilling even to Dick's broken heart as Roy nudges his noodles around in the bowl. 

"What happened?" 

Roy sighs and puts his bowl on the coffee table. 

"Nothing," he says. "Not - I dunno. I did some thinking." 

"I hope you're not thinking of starting up the Outlaws again," Dick teases. Roy huffs a laugh and presses his foot up to Dick's. 

"Not about that," he says. His face turns serious, then, gravity tugging his words down into the pit of Dick's stomach. "I remember when you found me after Kelsey." 

Dick sets his chopsticks against the edge of the bowl, quietly glancing up to Roy's profile. Roy's gazes fixes to a point on his leg, where a scrape on his jeans is just splitting into a hole. 

"We weren't - I didn't know you as well back then, but I remember thinking that it was...really nice of you. You barely knew me." 

"We're teammates." Dick shrugs, playing nonchalant, but his stomach ties up into knots. 

"Yeah, but then you _kept_ doing it." Roy licks his lips. His hand drifts up to pick at the thread on his jeans. "After Garth and Kyle and - Donna. Even with Tony. And I always - you were always so patient, I never understood how you could - " he waves his hand dismissively. A lump forms in Dick's throat. 

"You've done a lot for me," Roy continues. "Really, a _lot_. More than you should've, and it was - unfair of me not to notice that there was...something there." 

"Roy, don't." He practically whispers it, it's so soft, but Roy doesn't heed it. 

"I don't know how I missed it," he murmurs, staring at his open palms. "It wasn't like everyone else. _You_ weren't like everyone else." 

" _Roy_ \- " 

"And I didn't even realise I felt the same." 

"Roy, I don't want to - " _wait, what?_

Dick freezes, damning silence slamming down between them. 

"I'm sorry, Dick." Roy turns his gaze on _him_ , now, soft in the corners. 

Dick's throat feels impossibly dry. "Don't apologise." Barely wheezed, raspy, autopilot. 

Roy smiles sadly. "You always say that." 

"I always mean it." 

Roy studies him for a long moment, like he's plying Dick apart with tweezers under the microscope, piecing him apart and slotting him back together like a puzzle. 

"I know," he says. Then swallows, audible. "But can you let _me_ mean it just this once?" 

"There's nothing to apologise _for_." Dick holds the eye contact like spun sugar, stretched thin and fragile between them. He thinks if Roy touches him he might shatter like safety glass, like imploding squares that hurt nothing but themselves. 

He holds his breath in seconds. One and two and three and four and five. 

"How long?" Roy asks, breathes, soft like a caress. "How long have you - " 

The bowl burns Dick's palms. "Years." 

Roy lifts a hand, hesitates, sets it back on his leg. Drops his gaze to search for the words. 

"How?" It's a careful phrase, spoken like Dick would bolt if said any other way. "Was it - when?" 

It's Dick's turn to look away. When. How. How fast, how slow. Fast if the definition of fast is hurtling, and slow if the definition of slow is strangling. 

"I don't know," he lies. Roy knows he's lying. He doesn't call him on it. 

"I thought a lot about it," Roy says, glancing back down at his hands. "It was instant with everyone else. Kinda like we just clicked, y'know? Even with Garth and Donna, it was...we were friends, and then one day we weren't, and we were on the same page about it." 

Dick doesn't know. He's always fallen in love slowly, gradually, an accumulating snowball of affection and trust and respect that might eventually grow into something more. 

Except with Roy. That was near-instant, once they were older, so sudden it almost bowled him over when he realised. 

"But not with you," Roy continues. "It was...slow. I didn't realise until it was staring me in the face and even then I didn't - I hadn't thought..." He shakes his head. "So I'm sorry that I didn't realise. And I'm sorry for all the shit I've brought to you, and I'm _really_ sorry about ruining so many of your shirts." That one comes with a breathless little laugh. 

"You know what I'm going to say to that," Dick murmurs fondly, a traitorous smile twitching on his lips. 

"How about you just accept the apology and let me ask you out?" Oh, the hopeful smile Roy gives him is almost too much for Dick's poor heart, everything he ever wanted and more and it's - it's _right there_. 

"Are you sure?" Dick puts his bowl down and runs a hand through his hair. "Because if it's about feeling _obligated_ or something, that's not - I don't want - I'm happy just being friends if that's all you want. Really." 

"I know." Roy smiles crookedly. "And I'm sure." 

Dick swallows. 

"And what if it doesn't work out?" He hates himself for asking, but he'd hate himself for not asking more.

"Then we'll still be friends." Roy reaches out to take Dick's hand in his. The brush of his thumb over Dick's knuckles is fond, _sweet_ , aching to Dick's hopeful heart. "I managed it with all the heroes I dated, I think _we_ can manage it." 

He dips his head to meet Dick's eyes, smiling soft and broad and _fond_. With all that affection aimed squarely at him, Dick hardly knows how to respond, caught breathless every time he maps and re-maps the lines of Roy's face in this moment, preserving it like a scrapbook. 

"Do _you_ want to?" Roy asks, and Dick could laugh at how ridiculous the question is. 

"Yeah," he breathes, admits, _confesses_. "Yeah, I do." He licks his lips, but the rest of his mouth is still feverishly dry. "I'm just figuring out how to kiss you." 

Roy's grin tips into lopsided, every bit as charming as the rest of him. "How about you start by doing this?" 

He tugs Dick in with the hold on his hands, and very soon after that, Dick stops thinking about figuring out anything at all. 


End file.
